Blood Mage
by Joelcoxriley
Summary: During the final fight with Corypheus, Solona begins to realize that her whole purpose for helping the Inquisition was for not. The only good Blood Mage, is a dead Blood Mage. *Bull/Herah, Cole/Solona* *Now error free! Hopefully! Yay!*


**Hello! This is a one shot, and has references to Stories in the Ink. Has some Cole/OC and Bull/OC. Rated Teen, but let me know if it should go up in rating. Has some dark, despairing moments. Either way, hope you enjoy.**

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It was a battle of demons and blood, wave after wave crashing upon the other in an endless tide that ceased to break upon the Fade. The Veil, and now the world, was torn asunder. And in flashes of green and red, the world was awaiting the victor of its savior to mend the Veil and right what was broken. Or, possibly, its destroyer to hasten the world to its bitter end.

Islands of earth and ash floated up towards the skies where dragons ruled, fire and blight raining down from the heavens.

Within the ruins of the Temple of Sacred Ashes, Corypheus stood, a twisted sneer upon the blighted creature's face, the Orb flashing red with power as it flittered to and fro around him. The earth surrounding the Elder One was scarred with magic that could shake the very Fade, once proud pillars toppling into the ashen ground, spewing clouds of ash and dust.

A lone figure slowly rose from the debris, small frame coughing in an attempt to get the needles from her lungs. It did not matter. Every breath, every movement brought pain. And now, standing upon shaking legs that were ready to give with cut and bruised skin, Solona had now realized that everything she fought for had been in vain.

How foolish was she to hope that she might win-she, a mere blood mage? How foolish was she to hope that the Inquisition could win, that they could defeat Corypheus, and she could be free of death by his hand? Once more, she was a fool. Once more, Solona was wishing that she had thrown herself from the battlements that night. But there was something more, as well.

There was pride.

Indeed, the girl was proud for not running away like how she oh, so wanted to. She was proud in her defiance-however so weak-against one so strong. She was proud for helping in the Inquisition. She was proud for being a good Blood Mage, if there even was such a thing.

Slowly, the woman regained her footing, though she wanted to do anything but. Her pride would not allow this blighted creature to end her life lying face down upon the ground.

A red mist glowed softly around her palm, cut and worn as Solona focused upon it. Red, not green, like Herah's. Tainted, corrupted, spoiled from blood magic. And she, the Blood Mage. But she was no Magister. Not like the Elder One.

The young woman did not notice the Darkspawn approach from the dust and ash, and had shrieked when a taloned hand had roughly gripped her arm and hoisted her into the air. Solona felt her shoulder scream from the brute force, socket threatening to pop as her feet dangled for ground that simply was not there.

"Tell me, Blood Mage...what is it you wished to gain in opposing me?" Corypheus questioned, breath smelling of vile taint as Solona tried to not look at the creature before her. Anything but that thing.

Solona tried to speak, but found her voice far too dry. Her free arm desperately tried to break the beast's hold, but she was far too weak, blood drained and body broken.

"T...To prove...to prove to the world...that I am not...you. That not all Blood Mages are...bad." She forced, mouth as dry as the Hissing Wastes. The creature seemed to study the red mark upon her hand before allowing her to drop upon the ground, Orb activating in a crimson hue.

"Of course you are not like me! You, who are weak! You, who has stolen my power! You, who has hindered my right to godhood!" Corypheus spoke, arms raising as if to beckon the torn heavens, air growing thick and heavy as the magic charged, "And now, you face the wrath of your New God! Face your death, usur-"

The slicing echo of a blade had pierced the Darkspawn's twisted maw, the magic disrupting in a chaotic blast that sent Solona spiraling backwards and causing stone to fall from the skies. The Elder One clawed at his wound, cursing in the old Tevinter Language as black blood fell from his gnarled face.

Dazed and deafened, the young woman struggled to find her bearings, and was confused when she felt someone pulling her to her feet, urging her forward, onward.

"The Iron Bull and Herah are coming, but you need to get to safety!" The voice spoke, swift with concern and worry. Solona could barely understand her companion. The words blurred and the world became a haze, a dream, a figment of the Fade.

Before the woman registered what was going on, a sudden burst of magic had erupted through the very ground before them, sending the pair spiraling backwards upon the jagged earth. She could hear the Elder One curse and threaten. It would not let them leave.

"You dare show yourself, demon? I shall banish your soul to the darkest part of the Fade!" Corypheus bellowed, air once more thickening. At that statement, Solona knew who was with her, facing death with her. It made her heart almost stop.

"I am no demon, and you are no god!" The boy shot back, tone harsh and threatening. One dagger lost, one left. Perspiration had stained his brow, blood mixing with sweat and running down his chin.

"Cole!" Solona called in worry, seeing the towering figures of Bull and Herah approach through the ash, worn and weary, though eager to fight. Good. They are here. They can help. They can help Cole.

Corypheus' eyes narrowed upon the odd blonde, wounded face twisting into a sneer, "You dare slander me, demon? It shall be your last insult!"

The group felt the air thicken as the magic reared its head, Orb now active and violent once more. It struck, like a bolt of lightning with the wrath of a fallen god towards the young man. It would have hit him. Cole would have been dead. Should have.

If it were not for the Qunari.

"Cole! Get out of th-" The deafening surge of raw magic and blinding flash flushed out what was going to be said, blood flying and the scent of searing flesh that was far too hot filled the ash laden air. More dust flittered into the sky, and the earth belched from the impact, and the sound of a bodies roughly hitting the ground rung in Solona's ears.

Herah, the Inquisitor, had paused, absolutely stunned. Though Solona did not know why. She did not think as she blindly rushed into the murk, following the coughs and gasps of the boy that saved her.

"Cole! Cole!" The young woman called, coughing as she could not breathe. Compassion was kneeling upon the ground, struggling to rise. She kneeled down beside him, and tried to aid him in standing. Both almost fell down.

"Are you alright?" Solona questioned in concern, Cole still coughing, dazed from the blow.

"Th...The Iron Bull? He...Where is he?!"

"I don't know. We...we need to find him. Go to Herah." The blood mage forced out, the pair turning towards the female Qunari, and through the settling dust found that she did not move. She was still staring.

Only when the dust and ash truly cleared, did they see the object of her attention.

Iron Bull was on the ground, unmoving, deep lacerations upon his body that were running red with blood, limbs mangled and proud horns broken. His single eye had remained open, unblinking.

Solona felt the blood drain from her body. She felt Cole begin to shake. But worst of all, she saw Herah cry. Herah never cried. Ever.

"Th...The Iron Bull?" Cole whispered, voice quavering as his bruised lips trembled, eyes clouding as he approached on shaken legs, falling to his knees, "No...no, no, no, no, no, nonononononono, NO!"

He didn't even reach his friend when he fell. He was too hurt. Hurt in self blame and guilt.

Solona felt weak, shaking. It felt as if the world had become clouded once more, hazy. Like a dream. But this...this was a nightmare. A nightmare that haunted her with Herah's tears, the Qunari woman's hard violet eyes now looking soft and broken. Her face now seemed to have far too many creases for a woman her age to have. She was kneeling, touching, willing her lover to rise. First in orders of denial, then in loud sobs.

Cole knelt before the body of his friend, crying softly and body shaking. His hands were clamped together. Solona realize he was biting his own hand, drawing blood. It may have been in self punishment. It may have been to quiet the sobs that were wracking his throat and making his voice hoarse. She did not know. What she did know, however, was the look Herah gave her.

It said "Do something."

"Do something."

"You are the Blood Mage."

"You can make him better."

"You can make him whole and warm, not torn and dead."

But Solona could do nothing but watch, in a haze. She had stood, pale, beaten and weak. And watched.

She was not a good Blood Mage.

She didn't even try to help.

The dark chuckling of Corypheus broke the dream, the illusion, and snapped her back into the cold dredges of reality. His mere voice filled her blood with rage. She had thought more of her blood was on the outside of her than on the inside. She guessed she was wrong.

Solona saw the dagger upon the ground that Cole had used to pierce his tained maw, and wrapped her hand around the pommel.

"Corypheus!" The blood mage snarled, the Elder One turning towards her, eternal sneer present upon his deformed lips.

In rage, the young woman had approached the Darkspawn, blind with emotion, "You are no God. If it is one thing I look forward to, it is seeing you get no unrest in this life or the next! Like me, you will be damned in this life and cast adrift in the Fade! That is one thing you cannot escape!"

A sneer once more became evident, Solona's movements slowing as she found herself unable to move. Try as she might, she could not. Her mind was not her own.

"Tell me, Blood Mage, what does your Chant of Light say? Where is your Maker now? Hmmm? Call his wrath upon me! He does not answer you, does He? He does not, for He does not exist. Your vision of victory is vain and for not!" The Elder One bellowed, Orb once more dancing around him.

The woman tried to speak, yet found her voice caught within her throat. Rather, she had slowly made her way back towards her allies, movements stiff. It did not matter. No matter how hard she tried to fight his control, he still had her. She could not break free.

Solona approached Cole, kneeling beside him. He did not notice the dagger, shaking within her tiny hand. He saw her, but not the dagger. She closed her eyes, praying, hoping, willing him to see the dagger and get away, to kill her if need be.

'Please, please, please, please, Cole, please, please, see the dagger. No, no, no, no, no, no, see the dagger, get away, get away, Maker, Maker, Maker help. Maker please, answer my prayers...Maker? Maker, where are you?...where are you, Maker? Maker, please...please...Cole, kill me, kill me so you can live. Please. I don't...I can't...Maker...answer me. Please...' Solona thought desperately, hand now shaking violently, dagger reflecting the light of the Fade, tainted with blighted blood. Her breathing was erratic, tears clouding her vision and flowing freely down her dirt and blood stained cheeks.

'See it...see it...see it, see it, see it, see it, see it-'

"See it!" The woman screeched, dagger jerking in a sudden thrust, shredding his clothes and tearing into flesh, hot blood trickling along the blade, on the hilt, on her fingers. She heard him gasp, soft and sharp. The pain upon his face hurt her the most. Not of physical pain, but of betrayal.

Corypheus may have had control of her body, but he did not have control of her emotions. She cried, sobbed like the little girl she once was. She wanted to say she was sorry, say she tried to warn him, say she would rather be the one hurt than him. Wanted to say she loved him. But could not, not matter how hard she tried. Corypheus would not allow it. Even if he was not controlling her, the ball within her throat was too big to speak. She could barely breathe.

She did not register where the dagger was, but saw Cole pull his hand back, and have it stained the color of red. She wished so much that that blood was hers.

The Elder One laughed, a twisted snarl appearing upon his face as he held the Orb within his blighted talons, triumphant.

Solona lowered her head, praying and praying within her head, but received no answer. Only oppression for what she wanted to do.

"You see what you have wrought? You have failed, usurpers that you are! Watch, and witness the dawn of a new Age!" The blighted man chortled in victory, the Orb once more charging the air with raw power.

Solona felt the Darkspawn loosen his hold of her, felt his taint creep out of her being as he became high off of his own accomplishments.

The woman sobbed, cupping the boy's face, now slick with sweat and shaking from loss of blood. She had apologized numerous times, over and over and over again as she professed again and again.

Cole had remained dazed, though found the blood that he had shed was no more. Not on his hands, clothes or the ground. His wound no longer hurt. Until he realized it was no more, healed completely.

The young man looked upon the woman, Solona smiling through the tears in her eyes, and blood now running from her mouth. Until he saw the grimace of pain splash across her features. It was too late that he noticed she had stabbed herself-all to save him.

"Solona! No! No! No, no, no, no, not you, too! Not you, too!" Cole spoke, voice frantic and shaking, body trembling as he held onto the wound-her wound.

"I...It's..." Blood had ruptured from her mouth, and the blood mage had fallen, Compassion catching her, holding her, stroking her and running his hands through her hair that once held little suns.

"No, no, no, no, no, please! Please, no! Don't-Don't-" The blonde pleaded, grasped for words he could not find. His breath had hitched, and his body shook with fear. She was shaking now, shaking and growing cold. Cold and shaking. And he could not help her. He could not make her stop. The wound was too deep.

"Cole?...rem...remember...about good...good Blood Mages?" She asked, coughing and choking upon the blood in her throat.

"Y...Yes. You are a good Blood Mage, Solona. Not like Erimond, not like Corypheus..."

"The...only good...Blood Mage...is a...dead one."

"No! No, that is not...that is not..." Cole broke off, head shaking and trying to listen to her words, though found that while her lips were moving, no words came out. It took him several minutes to realize she was no longer breathing, and whatever words she tried to speak to him were lost.

Herah was still crying, now hugging the body of Bull.

And Corypheus became a God.

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 **Thank you for reading! I felt bad for Bull and Cole. I took me so long to write the scenes of them getting hurt. Still makes me feel bad. I couldn't get this scenario out of my head, so I wrote it. Feel free to review if you feel like it. Cheers.  
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